


Kryptonite

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e20 The Fall's Gonna Kill You, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-05-12
Updated: 2001-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "If I'm alive and well, will you still be there holding my hand?"





	1. Kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

RATING: PG, distress and slight adult language I suppose   
DISCLAIMER: I don't own "The West Wing" or any related components.   
"Kryptonite" is a song by Three Doors Down and is not mine, though it could   
well be my theme song.   
NOTES: Thanks to AJ for betaing this and giving me the feedback I need.   
Thanks to Red, wherever she went, for helping me along. Also, the information   
I got about MS for parts of this story came from the National Multiple   
Sclerosis Society website (http://www.nationalmssociety.org/) which was very   
helpful. Gotta give kudos to them.   
SPOILERS: This is Post- "The Fall's Gonna Kill You" so everything up until   
then, I suppose. :)   
SUMMARY: "If I'm alive and well, will you still be there holding my hand?" 

  


I took a walk around the world to   
ease my troubled mind   
I left my body lying somewhere   
in the sands of time   
I watched the world float to the dark   
side of the moon   
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah 

  


It was done. He had told them, all four. His senior staff was now aware   
of the grave secret he had kept for so long. And he felt worse than he had   
ever felt before. He kept thinking about what could have happened if he had   
told them before. When they rallied together out of their belief of him and   
put him in the White House. Did they regret it now? He had lied to them and   
made them part of what could be a major crime, a crime that could...   
No, they would go on. They could go on. He refused to believe that   
*this* would destroy them. They were stronger than that. This was his   
illness, his undoing and not theirs. He stopped and looked up at the sky. It   
was dark for a May night, perhaps communicating about the days ahead.   
What lay ahead for them? What did they think of him now? The fight with   
Toby, the reactions of Josh, CJ and Sam. How he wished he'd been able to tell   
CJ, but in truth, he couldn't. Toby he had survived. Josh, he knew what to   
expect. CJ... She probably hated him now. How could he be so stupid? How   
could he keep this from them? From the world? What was going to happen now,   
now that he could no longer keep this secret?   
He stopped again and glanced at the white building behind him. It was   
no longer his, was it? By the time this thing was over, it wasn't going to be   
his any more. Oh, God . .   
"What have I done?" He whispered softly. 

  


I watched the world float to the   
dark side of the moon   
After all I knew it had to be something   
to do with you   
I don't really mind what happens now and then   
As long as you'll be my friend at the end 

  


He sat at his desk, a tired look on his face. Many had gotten used to   
this look. This was his look these days. People who knew him back when he was   
still drinking regularly, who knew him when he reached for the pills to keep   
him going, they knew this look all too well. But he wasn't drinking now, and   
there were no pills for him to reach for. Besides, he was in enough trouble   
not to add his addictions back into the flame.   
He remembered how he felt when Abbey had told him, tears in her eyes.   
She was afraid for her husband's life, and even through that, he knew that   
she was crying because she had to tell him, because she hadn't told him   
before. Then he had gotten to his feet and went about his business before   
later going up to find his friend waiting in fear of his wrath. There was   
nothing to fear though. They would always be friends, through alcohol, valium   
and multiple sclerosis.   
The staff. Toby had cried and yelled and worried. Josh had sat there on   
the couch silently, slowly absorbing the truth for the first time. For the   
last three years plus, he'd been absorbing certain truths, but for the first   
time, this void of omission had been filled. CJ. Oh, how angry and sad she   
was at the same time. Looking at her now, he seriously wondered if she was   
going to be okay, if she'd be there the next morning or not. He didn't know   
if she was mad because the President was sick, or if it was because she   
wasn't told and was therefore forced to lie, or because of something else.   
What else was there? And tonight, Sam. Innocent Sam, still recovering from   
the blow of his father's infidelities, crushed by the void suddenly   
overflowing.   
He stood up and started picking up some of the stray papers on his   
desk. There was so much more to come, wasn't there? He heard a throat clear   
and glanced at the doorway that separated his office from the Oval one next   
door. He met the gaze of his best friend and paused. What was coming for   
them? How would the lies of omission reveal themselves?   
"Leo," His friend whispers. "What have I done? I need to know." He   
pauses, considering his friend's question.   
"I don't know. We don't know yet." He offered weakly. "Go to bed, Mr.   
President. We'll find out tomorrow." His friend nodded and then watched as he   
walked away. In the back of his mind, he thought about the pleading question   
he'd just been asked.   
What had *they* done? 

  


If I go crazy then will you still   
call me Superman   
If I'm alive and well, will you be   
there holding my hand   
I'll keep you be my side with   
my superhuman might   
Kryptonite 

  


She held her hands clutched together and thought about everything that   
happened to them in the past few days. She thought about what they were going   
to do in less than a week She was going to stand in the room as her husband   
told the truth for the first time in eight years. She had seen the looks on   
his face and on the looks on Leo's face and on the faces of her husband's   
staff. They were weary, and they were afraid. After talking to Oliver Babish,   
she knew why. She was scared too. She knew how much the Oval Office meant to   
her husband, but that wasn't what made her afraid.   
She was afraid of the day that came when her husband would have trouble   
speaking at all, the day that he would forget her name, the day they wouldn't   
be able to make love, the day when he wouldn't remember any useless trivia to   
torture his staff members with, the day he wouldn't be able to walk or the   
day when the pain was too much... the day when the man she loved wouldn't   
be the man she married, but a haunted version of him, a lifeless version.   
She was afraid, but she still loved him. Of course she did. How afraid   
she was. How angry at God she was. How sad she was because of all the   
emotions that clouded her daily life. She would always be there though. She   
would always be there to love him and to hold his hand and to be his strong,   
faithful wife. She would always love him, til the day she died. Not the day   
he died, but the day she died, no matter which came first.   
She heard the bedroom door open and looked up to meet his gaze. His   
bright blue eyes met hers and she could see that he was as scared as she was,   
and though she could not read his mind, she knew that it was for similar   
reasons. She got up and hugged him tightly. He buried his face in her neck   
and tried not to cry. She stroked her fingers through his hair and tried to   
do the same.   
"I'll always be there for you." She whispered, needing to say it. He   
closed his eyes and felt a tear drip down his cheek.   
"I love you so much." He whispered.   
"I love you too, Jed." 

  


You called my strong, you called me weak,   
but still your secrets I will keep   
You took for granted all the times I   
never let you down   
You stumbled in and bumped your head, if   
not for me then you would be dead   
I picked you up and put you back   
on solid ground 

  


He stared at the wall and tried not to think about what he had just   
been told. He didn't know how to feel. Betrayed. Scared. Angry. Saddened. How   
sad he was. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes, but he would not let   
them fall. He swallowed slowly and looked at the Chicago speech that was   
sitting in front of him, all tidied and ready to show to Toby, to the   
President.   
The President. The President had MS. The President had lied to them for   
more than three years about having a dehabiltating disease. Why? Why had   
Bartlet lied to them? Why now tell them? Why tell the world now? Why not wait   
twenty-five more years and go the same route as his father. Lie for   
twenty-eight years and then smash everyone's illusions. No, instead, lie for   
three years and put everyone in professional jeopardy.   
He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the ball thumping   
against the wall next door. His boss had known and told him that he'd "be in   
the office" when the truth was out. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't so   
naive as to think that this was going to be easy. For a split second, a   
single word flashed through his mind, followed by two more. "Quit." "Walk   
out."   
No. He was not a quitter. He walked out of Gage Whitney because his   
best friend had found the real thing. Look how real it was. Josh didn't know   
then. He wiped away one of the escaping tears and ran his fingers through his   
short hair. Were there any father figures left? Or were they all liars? Were   
there any more hopes that could be dashed against the rocks? They were going   
to be somebody. This administration, they were going to take it to the mats.   
Now they were just a group of people who were lied to by a great man   
with a great illness. What was going to happen to them now?   
They were going to survive. They were stronger than this. The President   
was stronger than his illness and they were stronger than the lie. He looked   
up and saw his taller best friend.   
"CJ..." He whispered, afraid. He needed to know that it was okay,   
that he was right and they were stronger than it all. He stood up slowly as   
she walked in and hugged him tightly. 

  


If I go crazy then will you still   
call me Superman   
If I'm alive and well, will you be   
there holding my hand   
I'll keep you be my side with   
my superhuman might   
Kryptonite 

  


She had been sitting in her office for a while now. She had turned back   
when she was less than a block from home. She knew that as long as Josh had   
thought she was home, she didn't have to worry about people trying to find   
her, and the last thing she needed right now was people trying to find her.   
She needed to be alone, and yet for some reason she had come back to her   
office. She sat down at her desk and turned to look at Gail.   
She was angry, and that was an understatement. She had been lied to,   
despite everything. Everything was building up on her. Sam and Laurie was   
small dice. Leo's stay in Tuscon was a piece of cake. When they kept the   
truth from her about India-Pakistan, she recovered. She thought that they   
wouldn't lie to her any more, but it turned out they'd been lying to her for   
years. They'd been lying to everyone. They lied to Leo for a while. But he   
found out.   
Then he lied too. Toby lied to her the other day even after she   
directly asked him what he was lying about. Part of her understood that, that   
he was struggling with his own emotions (a great feat for Toby) and that he   
was trying to keep the confidence of the President, as was Leo, but goddamn   
it they should have told her! The President should have taken her into a room   
and told her three years ago.   
She should have asked. When she saw the injection, she should have   
asked what was going on. She didn't. She acted innocent and let the lie go   
on. Didn't that mean she didn't have a right to be angry now? She didn't ask.   
Sam found out tonight. Poor Spanky, she thought. Once again, the last   
to know. No, that wasn't right. He wasn't the last to know. The American   
people were going to be the last to know. The world was the last to know.   
Still, Sam. After everything with his father, and now being the last one *on   
the senior staff* to know... She got up and went for a walk. She saw his   
light on and moved towards it. Moving towards the light. She chuckled. From   
her current perspective, it was just too damn ironic. She leaned in his   
doorway and saw him leaning over his desk, his fingers clutching tufts of his   
hair.   
Another one's hopes dashed against the rocks. He looked up and met her   
gaze. As he stood up, fear and hope mixed in his sharp blue eyes, he   
whispered her name. She walked over to him and hugged him tightly.   
They were going to get through this. They had to. They had to get   
through this together. They had to. They would. 

To be continued in part two 

 

  


	2. Kryptonite 2

 

See Notes and Disclaimer in Part 1, basically all pertinent information. 

  


If I go crazy then will you still   
call me Superman   
If I'm alive and well, will you be   
there holding my hand   
I'll keep you be my side with   
my superhuman might   
Kryptonite 

  


He had gone home. He was tired and he didn't want to be near the office   
when Sam emerged from talking to the President. It was a cowardly thing to   
do, he realized. He was sneaking out the back door while his best friend was   
listening to devastating news. The truth was he didn't have anything to say.   
He was devastated and he couldn't say anything. There was nothing he could   
say. Three years ago, he had gone to Sam and he had told him about the real   
thing. Now they were each being told that there was no such thing as the real   
thing.   
Now he sat on his couch and stared at the wall. Then he looked at his   
hand. There was a small trace of a scar across his palm. Another reminder of   
the pain he had gone through over the past year. He unbuttoned his shirt   
slightly and traced his fingertip gently over the six inch scar that ran down   
his chest. A reminder of how he almost died for this administration, for   
President Josiah Bartlet. Nearly died for a man who had lied to him for more   
than three years.   
He would do it again in a second, if it meant saving Bartlet's life. Or   
Charlie's or Zoey's or Sam's or CJ's or Leo's or even Toby's. His life didn't   
mean as much to him as theirs did. What did he mean to them though? He   
remembered waking up and looking at the President. He'd said 'what's next?'   
and got ready to face the world again. The President had stroked his forehead   
and that was that. If only he'd known. This was next. On the first   
anniversary of the shooting, the sky was falling down on them again. Nice   
timing.   
He was half tempted to break his window again, just to make sure that   
the blood was still flowing through his veins. He wanted to make sure he was   
still alive, that the bullet hadn't really killed him year ago and now it was   
time for him to wake up from this dream. Multiple sclerosis.   
"These people perpetrated a fraud against the American People." That's   
what the man had said. He closed his eyes and rested his hands against them.   
Wasn't this the height of everything? In less than a week, the President was   
going to tell the American people the truth, and then 'these people' would be   
the President and his people. They didn't know. Could they be held   
responsible even though they didn't know? The fall was going to kill them . .   
.   
The fall was going to kill him. The President had come to the airport   
when his father died. The President was a former Governor then. He had told   
the President that he appreciated the effort. God, the President used to have   
such trouble remembering there names. Was that the MS? The signs... The   
signs that they missed. He was going crazy thinking about all the signs that   
they'd missed. What was going to happen now?   
Was the fall going to kill him? Even if it was, he was going through   
this to the very end. Whatever it took, he was staying in it. He wiped at his   
eyes and then looked at the picture of his father on the wall.   
"I serve at the pleasure of the President." He whispered. 

  


Yeah!   
If I go crazy then will you still   
call me Superman   
If I'm alive and well, will you be   
there holding my hand   
I'll keep you be my side with   
my superhuman might   
Kryptonite 

  


What had he done? He threw the ball steadily against the wall and tried   
to come up with an answer to that question. If only he hadn't gone poking   
around, asking questions and searching for answers. "Ignorance is bliss."   
Isn't that the truth? He thought to himself. He threw the ball again and   
caught it. He was tired. He was ready to go home and get a drink. Or two, or   
three or more. He knew it was not a good thing that he found such a comfort   
in alcohol, but he also knew that if he didn't have something to pull him   
through, he was going to cry. It used to be that Andi pulled him through . .   
. now she was still dating that damn Oriole. She couldn't help him through   
any more, she couldn't wipe away his tears.   
How many foolish things had he done in his life? Now he was the   
catalyst. He had started this ball rolling and now CJ was mad at him and they   
were all facing legal hell for who knew how long. What was going to happen   
now?   
He threw the ball again and caught it again. He always caught it. He   
always did. He caught the ball every single time. Except for when the words   
"multiple sclerosis" came out of the lips of the man that he admired, revered   
and trusted for all else in the world. That was the ball that he dropped.   
What had happened with Andi was another ball that he dropped, but they still   
talked to each other, so he had managed to pick it up again, but this...   
This.   
He had looked it up on the internet. Fatigue, tingling, numbness,   
difficult speaking or swallowing, double vision, lack of balance, tremors,   
muscle weakness, forgetfulness, mood swings, difficulty concentrating...   
He smiled as he thought that the 'sexual disfunction' might be what   
frustrated the President the most. The President loved his wife very much and   
the staff knew it. Still, that was quite a list, and that wasn't even it.   
There were a few other things on the list that he just couldn't remember. He   
had a feeling that if he tuned into any news show in a week, he could get a   
complete update. Is that what it came down to? The President was now just a   
list of symptoms?   
He threw the ball again. And again. And again, unconsciously throwing   
it harder and harder until it hit the bookshelf and the books came tumbling   
down. When the ball whizzed past him again, he missed it. It bounced off the   
wall behind him and then spiraled into his couch. He stared at it in   
amazement and fear, tears welling up in his eyes.   
It was all falling down. He had missed the ball.   
What had he done? 

  


If I go crazy then will you still   
call me Superman   
If I'm alive and well, will you be   
there holding my hand   
I'll keep you be my side with   
my superhuman might   
Kryptonite 

  


When they offered him this job, he didn't think it was all going to   
come to this. This was what his life was going to be like then. This was   
going to encompass the next god-knows-how-many years. He twirled the gavel in   
his fingers, staring at the closed door of his office. Jed Bartlet was his   
friend and there it was. Multiple sclerosis. Goddamn it, why didn't Jed just   
tell the truth?   
The staff had come by to see him, one by one. He had yet to talk to   
Charlie Young nor any of the Bartlet daughters. The Bartlets were protecting   
their children from the big, bad legalese for now, but sooner or later...   
Sooner or later, the walls come tumbling down, don't they? This brilliant,   
tower of a great man had lied, and that man was going to be pulled down. No.   
They were going to try to pull the man down, but he wouldn't let them. He   
didn't care that the staff firmly believed now that he was an asshole or   
whatever it was, that CJ despised him and accused him of bitch-slapping her,   
he was going to pull them through it.   
But they'd have made it on their own. The group of them was a strong   
one, and one that he had never belonged to. One that he would never belonged   
to. Before this was over, they were either going to hate him or love him, but   
by God, he swore that he was going to get them through. That was his job, and   
he was going to do it. He just prayed for the ability to do so. 

  


Kryptonite... 

  


Somewhere, two friends sat on a couch and talked about their fears and   
through each other, they found a reason to stay with the ship, even if it was   
sinking.   
Somewhere, haggard elderly gentleman glanced at a bar as he was stopped   
at a red light. He shook his head and then drove home to his empty apartment   
on 17th street, trying not to think about the trouble his friend was in.   
Somewhere, a young man with brown, curly hair stared at the ceiling of   
his bedroom, tracing his fingers over the mark of hatred that had been burned   
into his chest, just as the numbers had been tattooed into the arm of his   
grandfather, an emblem of heritage and belief.   
Somewhere, a middle-aged man brushed the tears out of his beard and   
started to put the books back on his shelf, slowly trying to piece back   
together an image of stability.   
Somewhere, a tall lawyer stayed up late in his office, preparing to   
stand by his leader, and equipped with only the words "bring it on" against   
the impending hurricane, he prepared to face the world as the defender of a   
fraud. He did this with pride, a weak smile and a large wooden gavel.   
And somewhere, a normal, imperfect, regular human being slept next to   
his wife, and tried not to think about the future that lay ahead of him nor   
of the past that he could not change. 

The End... 


End file.
